Page 114 of Checking It Twice
“Love it,” I say through gritted teeth.
Mitch’s jaw tics. He knows he messed up, but he’s too proud to back down in front of everyone. “We can talk about it later.”
Talk about it. Like my entire summer is something to be discussed rather than planned together.
“Absolutely,” I say, standing abruptly. “Lots to talk about.”
I head toward the kitchen, needing space to breathe before I say something I’ll regret in front of his entire team. But Mitch follows, because of course he does.
“Clare, wait—”
I spin around to face him, keeping my voice low. “A month, Mitch? You’re planning to disappear for a month without even mentioning it to me?”
“It’s not disappearing. It’s tradition. The guys and I have been doing this since—”
“Since before me, I get it.” The words come out sharper than I intended. “But we live together now. We’re supposed to be partners. Partners discuss major life decisions.”
His expression hardens, and I can see him shutting down. Building those walls he’s so good at constructing when he feels cornered. “It’s my off-season. I can spend it however I want.”
“Of course you can. But maybe—crazy thought—you could consider the fact that I don’t get an off-season. I work all summer. Every summer. Eight to five. While you’re off playing fishing retreat with your buddies.”
“It’s not playing—”
“What would you call it then?” I cross my arms, anger making me reckless. “Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like you want all the benefits of a live-in girlfriend during the season, but come summer, you’re ready to pretend I don’t exist.”
Something dangerous flashes in his eyes. “That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it? Because you just announced to your entire team that you’re planning to spend a month at some cabin, and your girlfriend—the woman you supposedly love—didn’t even know about it. And according to you, isn’t even invited, because apparently it’s toorustic.” I make finger quotes.
“I was going to tell you—”
“When? After you’d already booked it? After you’d made all the plans with everyone except me?”
He runs a hand through his hair, that jaw doing that thing where it ticks when he’s cornered. “Look, it’s not that simple—”
“Actually, it is.” My voice cuts through his deflection like a blade. “Either I’m part of your life or I’m not. Either we make decisions together or we don’t.”
“You are part of my life—”
“Am I? Because right now it feels like I’m just someone who keeps your bed warm during hockey season.”
The words hang between us like a live wire. His face goes white, then flushed with anger.
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” I can feel tears threatening, but I’m too angry to care. “You love having me around when it’s convenient. When you need someone to come to team events or cook dinner or fuck you after a bad game. But the minute you want to go back to your old life, I’m suddenly a distraction.”
“I never said you were a distraction.”
“You didn’t have to.”
People are starting to notice our heated whispers, glancing over with curious expressions. I can’t do this here, in front of everyone.
“I need some air,” I mutter, pushing past him.
I don’t make it outside. Instead, I duck into the first room I find—Bennett and Lucy’s guest bathroom—and lock the door behind me. My hands are shaking as I grip the marble countertop, trying to get control of myself.
This is what I get for letting myself believe in us. For thinking I could be someone’s priority instead of their convenience.
